


precious metals

by softambrollins



Category: Professional Wrestling
Genre: M/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28462884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softambrollins/pseuds/softambrollins
Summary: you take the knife out of your backand polish it until your hands bleedand put it up on your highest shelfalong with all the shiny things you don’t ownalong with all the pieces of him you don’t have.
Relationships: Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Seth Rollins | Tyler Black
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr link.](https://softambrollins.tumblr.com/post/640852041620750336/precious-metals-sb)


	2. raw text

you take the knife out of your back   
and polish it until your hands bleed  
and put it up on your highest shelf  
along with all the shiny things you don’t own  
along with all the pieces of him you don’t have.

he left you for shinier things, a shinier life  
he left you to become  
someone else  
and you want to ask:  
 _do you hate yourself?  
do you hate yourself?  
do you hate yourself?  
like i could never hate you  
like i fucking love you._

he’ll never give you an answer  
he’ll never give you back what he stole  
he’ll just keep standing there   
and looking at you  
and looking at you  
and looking at you  
that hollow smile on his face  
his eyes dark and cold  
someone else  
stealing more and more from you with each passing moment  
he’ll haunt your dreams like you haunt him in waking.

you take the steel out of your hands and drop it to the floor  
he’s standing there with his head bowed and his arms spread  
and he looks at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted  
like you’re made of gold and starlight   
and everything he’s dreamed of his whole life.

you take the knife down from the shelf and you dust it off  
and you look at it for the first time   
since you stole gold from his hands and left them empty  
and your own reflection ripples and changes into his  
like dropping a stone into still, clear water  
and he’s not a ghost anymore  
he’s alive and right there and close enough to touch— 

and the sharp silver breaks into myriad pieces in your hands  
the jagged edges catching the light  
showing you   
your whole life  
fragmenting into a million incandescent moments  
all the dreams you dared not dream for years and years  
because  
hope   
is the only thing that hurts more   
than a   
blade   
from your most beloved.

these are your deepest scars now:  
the way he used to   
smile at you  
and touch you   
and look at you  
his eyes shining like all the precious metals   
you never thought you would hold close to your chest   
like you used to hold him  
they’ve all gone cold and bittersweet and distant now  
like stars burning out, fading away  
ghosts in the night’s sky  
nothing but dust and memory  
a faint aftertaste in the back of your throat   
a wistful yearning for things dead and everliving  
all you see is nothing but   
his lonely face  
in their smooth, shimmering surfaces.

he reaches his empty, begging hand out towards you   
across the dark, infinite wasteland of the universe  
and you—   
god help you  
—you reach back. 

so you pull his body into yours  
and you’re bathed in blinding lights in front of the world  
time going still like you’ve both been reborn   
sculpted into golden statues of legendary conquerors  
you forgot the taste of glory for a long time  
but maybe it always tasted like him.

you’re the knife now  
not silver but iron  
rough and raw and red-hot  
a heavy meteorite striking the earth  
laying waste to the land  
and he’ll let you  
bury   
yourself   
deep inside of his chest  
over and over and over again  
and you hate yourself  
you hate yourself  
you hate yourself  
the way he loves you more than his own pride  
more than you will ever earn or deserve or be able to return  
the way he’d give up every single piece of himself   
for you  
to save you  
even when you don’t want it  
even when no one can.

you drop the gold clutched in your hands  
and you break it  
break his heart  
break the world  
in one moment  
you give it all back to him  
the violence and the pain   
the gleaming treasures that lured him away  
he can have everything but what he craves  
but your gentle fingers in his hair   
but your copper blood in his mouth  
reminding him of who he most wants to be  
you leave him there lying amongst all his shiniest things  
with nothing.

you have to leave him  
you have to leave him   
crying on cold concrete   
and walk away  
and walk away  
and walk away  
because you were born in the dark   
and he was meant for brighter things.

the knife in your back was only a gentle reminder  
a cruel kindness  
he’ll never belong to you   
because your molten anger destroys everything in its path   
because your hands are too scarred to carry love.

but he comes to you at night  
and puts his warm hand around yours  
and your skin doesn’t scorch him because he burns too  
like a supernova  
his eyes still the brightest thing in your world   
he holds them both close to his chest  
says _this is who i am_  
says _it was always yours_  
not steel or gold or cold, brutal, shiny things  
but his bloody, beating, broken, brave heart  
that you wanted to tear from his ribcage  
that you crushed under your heel like wilted flowers  
that he placed inside your hands long ago   
and trusted you to keep it safe  
along with a rusty, old dagger forgotten on a shelf.

you take the heart he places in your hands  
and you cut your chest open and rest it inside  
amongst the fierce flame of your own   
damaged, imperfect, constant devotion  
where nothing dark will ever touch it.

it was always yours  
he was always yours  
like you could be more than a weapon  
like you won’t let this fragile, sacred feeling slip from your grasp and shatter   
like you could pluck all the shards of glass out of his wounds with careful hands  
like you could hold him tenderly against your bruised, shaking body and be enough  
like you could be all the luminous, golden worlds he wanted to conquer  
like you could conquer them all   
together  
or apart.


End file.
